Beatle

Chapter 6 (Beginning)

Hello everyone! So as I mentioned to some of you, here's an update as a late Thanksgiving gift/memory of George's passing. I hope you enjoy, I'm honestly trying to get better about updating. Thanks for everyone who continues to comment, I love hearing from you all. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 6: Come Go With Me

"'Well, love, love me darlin', come and go with me-'" John sang, strumming away on his "guaranteed not-to-split" guitar. We'd gotten as close as possible to the back of the lorry where the group was set up, as there was already quite a group gathered round. I glanced at Paul and saw him smiling slightly and nodding his head a bit to the rhythm, his eyes fixated on John.

He was rather striking. He'd done up his hair especially today, his DA cut in perfect form. He had on this plaid shirt with his drainies, and his gray shoes tapped along to what he played.

"'-Down, down, down to the, penitentiary-'"

"What did he just say?" I asked Paul, leaning over towards him.

He laughed and asked in return, "Doesn't sound like 'e knows the words does he? 'e said 'penitentiary'!"

"'-I need you darlin', so come go with me...'"

"They're pretty good aren't they?" Ivan asked us after the song had finished, and everyone began clapping and whistling for the Quarrymen.

"They are good," I agreed.

"Marvelous," Paul said, not paying much attention to us but rather to the makeshift stage where the band seemed to be starting up again.

Now in retrospect, I realized that the Quarrymen were not, by any stroke of the imagination, an amazing group, something standout. They were five guys who liked music and were trying to do something with it, none of them, save maybe John, thinking they'd actually continue with it in the future. It was something to do, and it wasn't anything extraordinary.

Yet for some reason they managed to hold Paul's, mine, Ivan's, and all the other people at that fête's attention, not necessarily because of their musical talent, but by something else. What was it? I can't say I can tell you. All I know is that none of us could look away; we were spellbound.

I'd brought my camera with me that day, my new little Pentax my dad had given me as a sort of "going away" gift, telling me he'd help me develop all the pictures when I got back, as a friend of his from the office had access to a dark room. So I stood and snapped away, and seeing as I was only thirteen, and Dad had never gone over the essential instructions of how to actually use the camera, I only got one shot that wasn't under or overexposed. In that extremely grainy shot you can make out the five of them on the back of that lorry, the brick of the church in the background, John going full-force during "Maggie Mae" and having a hell of a time for himself. The picture is also a testament to how short I was, as it is obvious that the view is from a downward angle, looking up at them all on the truck.

The group only played a few songs, and while the adults seemed to be willing to move on, us kids were eager to hear more. There was such a hunger for music, any music that wasn't our parents or classical or both, that we took whatever thumping beat this group had to offer, and the few songs they played weren't nearly enough.

"Don't worry yourselves," John reassured us as there were some calls for the band to stay onstage after the last song. "Come back in a few hours, we'll be back in the parish hall tonight." And with that he unslung his guitar and hopped off the back of the lorry, out of our sight.

"So, Paul, what'd ya think mate?" Ivan asked as the crowd around us started to break up and disperse.

"They're alright," Paul said. "Not bad at all." He gestured up to where John had been standing, "Your friend there. Do you think he knows he was only playin' with four strings?"

Ivan looked surprised that Paul had picked that out, and he didn't seem to have an answer for him, so I jumped in. "His mum teaches him on the banjo," I explained. "They're not the same, right?"

"Not at all," Paul laughed. "That explains things then. So Iv," he turned towards Ivan. "What now?" He leaned in and said in a voice that he thought I couldn't hear, "Thought you said Woolton was good place to pull birds."

At the time, being thirteen, innocent, and utterly American, I could only fathom a guess at what Paul was saying. I remembered that John had called me a 'bird,' so I guessed Paul was asking Ivan something about girls, but I wasn't sure. I almost asked too, though I'm glad Ivan cut me off before I could; imagine if I had actually asked Paul. He would have had to awkwardly explain to me that Ivan had convinced him to come to the fête only because he promised it was a prime place to talk up girls.

Ivan laughed a bit awkwardly and stole a cursory glance at me. Noting my probable confused expression he probably relaxed a bit, realizing I most likely didn't know what was going on. "Um, well do you still want to meet John or...?"

"Oh! Yeah sure, why not?" Paul said, seeming to remember why Ivan had told me he was here.

"If they're playin' in the parish hall they're probably already set up in there, so we can go right over," Ivan said, and he led the way around the church to a building near it. Through some barnlike wooden double doors we walked into a dance hall-like room, with a small stage towards the back and an old piano on the floor next to it. A few feet from the piano were John and two more Quarrymen, talking and laughing with their instruments at their feet. Looking at John's face you could see his flushed cheeks, and I realized with a slight start that John looked a bit drunk. I'd never seen a drunken person before, and I was oddly curious.

"John, Eric, Rod, great set lads," Ivan called, still leading the way into the hall.

John turned to see him and grinned. "Alright Ivan?" he said en lieu of a greeting. "Tonight'll be even better I reckon. Ohhh, so you showed up lass?"

He directed the latter part at me, and I realized I had to respond; I couldn't just stay mute in front of John and all his friends. Drawing even with Ivan I mustered everything I had, trying to get the words out as smoothly as possible. "You didn't think I'd come John? I promised you, didn't I?"

He grinned and replied, "Don't recollect you doin' that, but it doesn't matter does it? You're here all the same. How'd you like us?"

"Best skiffle group I've ever seen," I said, and, feeling a little daring, added quickly, "seeing as you're the only skiffle group I've ever seen..."

"She's got her wits doesn't she?" remarked the boy with a banjo sitting next to John, pointing at me. "Who's she?"

"Temporary next door company," John replied, as if I wasn't even there. "Shame I can't keep 'er around longer though, I do love playing with dogs, 'specially ones that bite like her."

"Ey!" said Ivan above the ensuing laughter, though he couldn't help from smirking as well. Me, I was hurt from John embarrassing me, but I'd started to realize that sometimes the kid couldn't help himself, so I bore it with as little emotion visible as possible.

"Anyroad," Ivan continued, stepping away from me and gesturing to Paul, who had remained quiet this whole time and who I'd almost forgotten was there. "John, this is Paul McCartney, he goes to the Innie with me. Paul, this is John."

The outside kept going, faints birds singing in the late afternoon, the fading sounds of the lingering but ending fair, and the clatter of additional men in the hall who were setting up chairs for the evening. It wasn't a very dramatic moment, as if any of us knew what was happening, that history was being made, but you could definitely feel some sort of tension, some weird anticipation. It seemed, for that one moment, everyone was holding his or her own breath as John slowly rose from his chair and Paul moved forward slightly, hands deep in his pockets and eyes trained towards the ground. Finally he looked up and saw John's outraised hand.

"I'm John," he said.

"Paul," he replied, and they shook.

And all at once we started to breathe again.

John dropped Paul's hand and did something else that surprised us all: he raised his hand up and ran it through Paul's hair, keeping it there ahold of his dark locks. Unbeknownst to him we all exchanged rather uncomfortable glances; I remember thinking then that even his close friends didn't know how to should respond to an unpredictable John.

Finally he said, his eyes still unmoved from Paul's face, "He's like a mini Elvis, ain't 'e Ive? Got the quiff and everything."

"Suppose I do," Paul said coolly, returning John's stare.

"Spoke too soon," I thought. I had to give Paul credit; he sure seemed to know how to respond to John. He didn't give him the reaction he was looking for. Rather, he gave John the attitude right back to him.

Ivan laughed nervously and, obviously trying to change the subject and put at least himself at ease, he said, "Paul plays too John. Guitar, I mean."

John finally let go of Paul's hair and turned towards Ivan. "Does he now?" Looking at Paul he said, "What do you play?"

Paul shrugged indifferently, as if he didn't care about John's interest. But I'm sure the rest of us saw the bit of red blushing creep up his neck at the prospect of showing off to this older, cooler Ted. "Anything ya like." He nodded towards John's guitar on the floor. "Can I give that one a go?'

John nodded and picked up his guitar from where it was lying near his chair. "Lemme hear."

Paul took the neck of the guitar with obvious care, plucking the strings softly and tightening the strings, at which John furrowed his brows and said warningly, "Ey, what're ya doing?"

"Tunin' the strings," Paul replied matter-of-factly. "They sound better now don't they?" he added, giving the strings a brisk strumming.

"Well maybe the fact that you've got the guitar upside down has something to do with it," John tried to scoff, but you could detect a note of interest into what Paul was doing.

"Left handed mate," Paul said, smirking with half his mouth. "Doesn't have anything to do with the strings."

And with John, me, Ivan, and the rest of the Quarrymen watching, Paul played Eddie Cochran and knocked our socks off.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Hope you all enjoyed!

~Rosalind